


should've known better (tried harder)

by madnessiseverything



Series: cr daily drabbles [12]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Pacts, Episode 62, Nightmares, Scars, fjord is an anxious mess, uk'otoa is not a happy camper, what if that perception check was because blood pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:32:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: The moment the door falls shut behind Caleb, Fjord feels a tug in his hand. He glances down onto his right hand, still hovering in the air where Caleb had left it. The jagged scar running diagonally across his palm is pulsing.or the one where the blood pact is Doing Something, and uk'otoa doesn't like fjord having multiple pacts going on.





	should've known better (tried harder)

**Author's Note:**

> so.... episode 62 huh...... that all sure happened. i have so many fic ideas, yall. but this one jumped up on the list. inspired greatly by matthew mercer teasing us with an unresolved perception check and [@smoreyellow](https://twitter.com/smoreyellow) on twitter doing the lord's work by asking the important questions. hope you enjoy this! massive thanks to [amaronith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith) for reading over this for me <3
> 
> title patchworked together from fool by the sweeplings
> 
> TW: blood and scars are mentioned a fair amount of times, since this focuses on the blood pact. if those things trigger you or make you squeamish - beware. it's not gratuitous, but definitely a theme. also formatting refuses to work properly since my laptop is throwing a fit. sorry for the uneven spacing in some parts!

The moment the door falls shut behind Caleb, Fjord feels a tug in his hand. He glances down onto his right hand, still hovering in the air where Caleb had left it. The jagged scar running diagonally across his palm is pulsing.  
  
Fjord shakes his head and rubs his thumb over it. He is anxious, paranoid even, hypersensitive to anything mildly odd. The pulse under his thumb doesn’t fade. Fjord falls back onto his mattress and stares down, his right hand cradled in his left.  
  
“What the fuck,” he asks into the empty room. In the dark, the scar almost looks like it’s glowing. He bites down on his lip, swallows down the press of terror. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline from Caleb trying to dig deeper than what Fjord is willing to show, maybe it’s the new surroundings. He’s overreacting.  
  
Maybe it’s Uk’otoa, a small voice in the back of his head whispers and Fjord’s breath stutters. No. His patron uses dreams, water that pushes into Fjord’s lungs. His patron catches him when he is defenseless - in his sleep. This is new.  
  
He has half a mind to call Caleb back, to see if the wizard is experiencing the same, to ask him what the fuck this could be. Caleb has read so many books, knows so many spells - he could know what’s going on.  
  
Fjord stays seated on his bed and stares down at the scar, recalling vividly how Caleb’s hand had felt clasped against his that day, their blood darkening the water around them. He carefully doesn’t think about how Caleb had held onto his hand in a very similar way, if gentler and closer. There was no altar between them in this room.  
  
Fuck. The pulse is still going and Fjord shakes out his hand. He is stressed. That’s it.  
  
Fjord doesn’t find sleep easily. Then again, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling of his - _his_ \- room, sleep hasn’t come easily for a week. Not since he woke up with his sword not where it was meant to be. He turns around to face away from the wall and stares into the darkness of his room.  
  
The pulse in his hand makes itself known, fainter than before, but still there. It travels along the scar, again and again. Fjord goes to clench his hand into a fist and almost misses the light red glow of it. He freezes. _What the fuck?_ He holds it in front of his face, blinking at the continued thumping - like a heartbeat.  
  
Ideas start screaming in his head. He desperately tries to recall any information about magic that uses blood but comes short. Fuck, he should have asked Caleb. Fjord thinks about the knowing eyes, the way Caleb looked at him as if he saw more than what Fjord projected onto the world. He shakes his head. He’s being stupid.  
  
He forces his eyes shut and breathes. He doesn’t notice how he presses the scarred hand against his own chest, only feels when his heartbeat starts matching the pulse he feels from the hand. He keeps his eyes closed.  
  
He feels almost warm, he realizes. There has been a bone-deep chill in him, ever since Uk’otoa looked at him and decided he was worth punishing, ever since his dreams started feeling more and more like reality. But here, curled up in his bed, feeling another heartbeat against his, he feels like maybe there is more than cold. Like there is a place for him where he could feel like this forever, like he could feel warm and safe.  
  
When the water comes, he clings to that feeling. He is treading in the darkness, naked in waters that he wishes would stop seeping into every fiber of his being, icy shards settling into his skin. He isn’t swimming, he realizes. He is suspended without movement, as if frozen within the water. His hand is still pressed against his chest. A vice-like grip wraps around his chest and Fjord digs his fingers into the skin beneath them.  
  
**  
R E W A R D**

  
The voice reverberates within Fjord’s skull and he grits his teeth. The familiar yellow eye blinks open in front of him and Fjord thinks he might be consumed whole tonight. The anger isn’t new. The threat of worse, the low tone aren’t new. Yet, somehow, Uk’otoa’s voice feels as if more anger has found its way to his patron.  
  
**  
** **P U N I S H** **  
**

  
“I understand,” Fjord asks. He hates the desperation in his voice. “I understand that my powers- I got your message.” The memory of waking up with his sword out of its extra-dimensional space, the hollow feeling the lack of magic had invoked is still strong in his mind. He doesn’t want to feel like that ever again. He doesn’t want to be hollow.   
**  
**  
**A L O N E** **  
** **  
**  
Fjord pauses. This one’s new. “What do you mean?” He looks around. There is darkness around him. There is movement, slithering forms that he cannot quite make out. They all seem to lead back to the eye. “I’m alone,” he says after a few beats. “There’s nobody else here, I don’t-” **  
** **  
** **  
H I M**

  
Fjord frowns. “Him? What- Who is he?” The eye blinks - fast, so fast - and Fjord’s hand is torn from his chest. Blood trails from the scar, tinting the yellow glow permeating the water around them. Fjord feels like the water in his lungs freezes. “H-Him?” The water feels like it gets impossibly colder. “What?”  
  
**  
P U N I S H**

  
“No, no, wait!” Fjord closes his hand and pushes it back against his chest. “He’s not your concern. I’m- I’m in this pact. You- you give me powers. He has nothing to do with this.” The image of Caleb choking on seawater makes Fjord want to scream.  
  
**  
A L O N E**

  
“He’s not here! I’m alone, we talked but he left. I don’t know what you want from me.” He’s begging, and can’t bring himself to stop. He has to do _something_. The eye stares back without emotion. Blood floats between them and Fjord wishes he didn’t feel so powerless. “He has nothing to do with this,” he repeats, desperate.   
  
  
**H E R E**  
  
  
The scar pulses again and Fjord stops. His mouth parts in a silent ‘O’ as he looks down at his clenched fist. Blood escapes from between his fingers. Hands, clasped together, blood mingling. Oh gods. “What do you want me to do? He won’t- Please.” He can’t do this, not after he promised Caleb nobody would get hurt. He can’t. Gods, he doesn’t dare imagine what Uk’otoa could do to Caleb, the man that knows so much, carries so much power and gets knocked over by a stiff breeze. Not when Caleb held onto his hand and repeated words of a caring friend. Not when Caleb did not push where he could have.  
  
**  
** **A L O N E**  
  
  
“I don’t know how to get rid of it, please.” His voice cracks, but he keeps going, no longer afraid of what will happen to him. “He didn’t- he won’t do any harm. He- he helps. He supported me in getting your- he was at sea with me, with everybody!” Fjord is grasping at straws, feels every convincing word slip from his mind. He is left with only pathetic pleas. “He won’t do any harm.” The eye seems closer, brighter. Fjord keeps the memory of the warmth, of the pulse beating against his ribs, locked in his chest. He can’t let this hurt anybody but himself. He can’t let Caleb suffer for his fuck-ups.  
  
**  
W E A K N E S S**

  
“It won’t be. He’s great with magic, he knows so much about the arcane. You have to know that! He’s- he’s strong.” He pauses, swallows. “He can be of use.” The words taste like acid, his throat burning up as he forces them out. He refuses to let his problems bleed into Caleb, he can’t let Caleb get hurt. It’s silent for a while. Every second that ticks by makes Fjord’s heart beat faster, slamming into his ribs again and again as the eye keeps staring at him.  
  
**  
** **L E A R N**  
  
  
Fjord exhales. “Yeah! Yeah, I can learn, I’m learning. Caleb’s always learning.” He thinks of the hours Caleb spends pouring over dusty books found in old caverns, thinks of the bright-eyed look when Essik Theylas offered him a chance to learn dunamancy. He thinks about the rare smile Caleb shows when presented with new things to learn. Fjord thinks of his own curiosity. “We’re learning.”  
  
**  
** **P R O V O K E  
**

He doesn’t know if he’s glad that the old words are back, feels like he is missing something. “We- You know what we have been up to. The war…” He trails off, unsure what to say. Aren’t they provoking? They are in the middle of a war where sides don’t seem easy to pick, where Caleb held up an artifact and brought the Bright Queen to tears, where Beau and Caleb speak of peace, where so many people will die no matter what they do. “We’re provoking change.” He doesn’t sound as convinced as he hoped. Uk’otoa stares back, unblinking. More blood slips from his hand, salt burning the wound. The pulse is back, too strong, pumping more blood out into the water  
  
  
**C O N S U M E**  
  
  
“I-” Before Fjord can even think of a response, the voice cuts him off, now even lower, digging underneath his skin in a new, unfamiliar way. Fjord wants to squirm, to swim away, but remains frozen.  
  
  
**_D  E S  T R O  Y  
_**

Fjord wakes with salt water in his mouth and a new terror in his heart. He is up and standing before he has fully opened his eyes. He doubles over, salt water dripping down his chin. He flexes his hand, wills his sword into his hand. Relief comes with the appearance of the sword, but the lump in his throat doesn’t go away. He has to check on Caleb. He lets the sword disappear and forces himself not to rush down to Caleb’s room without second thought, instead choosing to walk carefully, if swiftly. He stops at the girls’ room to listen, but only hears snores and gentle whistles. He thanks whichever gods are smiling down upon the house and continues on his way to Caleb’s room.  
  
When he reaches the library, he puts his ear against the door. He waits, listens. When nothing reaches him, he pushes into the room and briskly walks across the room towards the door leading to Caleb’s room. He repeats his process. It’s quiet. Fjord’s heart is stuttering in his chest.  
  
As soon as he swings the door open, he comes face to face with sparking fingers. Familiar magic is spiraling around soot-covered hands, eyes flare up with fire and Fjord quickly holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry! It’s me, sorry!”  
  
The magic fizzles. A glowing orb appears behind Caleb and the man squints at him in the dim light. Fjord looks him over for damage of any kind. His coat is off, the book holsters gone. There is no blood, no sign of water or of Uk’otoa. His hair looks messier than usual and his hands are digging into his arms. Fjord slowly lowers his hands. “You could have knocked, Fjord.” Caleb’s voice is quiet, suspicious. Fjord doesn’t blame him. He barely stops himself from reaching out to stop Caleb’s nails from biting into his arms.  
  
“I’m sorry, I- I thought something was wrong.” Gods, how does he even explain? He has been doing so fucking well, dealing with the dreams by himself, as he should. But Caleb...  
  
Caleb’s eyes narrow further, his head pulling back slightly to regard him more closely. “What?”  
  
Fjord takes a few seconds to calm his erratic breath. Then, with a sigh, he runs his hand over his face. “Sorry. I had-” He stops, looks at Caleb, scratches at his neck. “I had this weird feeling.”  
  
Caleb steps closer and Fjord curses that he forgot about the saltwater the moment Caleb opens his mouth. “You smell like you just spit up an entire beach.”  
  
“Isn’t that my usual scent?” Fjord winces. Caleb scans him, his eyebrows raised. “Fuck. Okay. I-.” He has to tell Caleb, or ask him or- “Can I come in?”  
  
Caleb only pauses briefly, before nodding. “Of course.” He steps aside to give Fjord room.  
  
Fjord steps over the threshold and doesn’t know which path he’ll choose. Dreams, scars, a giant yellow eye filled with threats. He brushes against Caleb. His hand pulses, Caleb jerks, and Fjord freezes. Blue eyes meet his, wider than before. _Oh._  
  
“Ah,” Caleb says. “I see.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I can come back in the morning-”  
  
“I am a night owl, Fjord. And, not to be rude, but you could pass as me with the way you look right now.” Caleb tilts his head, his brow furrowed and hand resting against the door. “We can talk. I do not mind.”  
  
Fjord nods. “Okay.” Caleb doesn’t close the door behind him as they walk further into the room. Fjord is infinitely grateful for it.

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is sort of open-ended, but this is how things worked out. if i get over my massive fear of dialogue heavy writing, i might write a chapter two, but i don't want to for sure promise it. as of right now, it's a oneshot.  
> feel free to drop by my [cr twitter](https://twitter.com/nottanycritter) and [cr tumblr](https://nottanothercritter.tumblr.com) for lots of screaming and random rambles.


End file.
